Voices on the Other End
by artsc
Summary: Chloe works at a suicide and crisis hotline in Illinois. Beca is an anxiety-ridden, slightly crazed, all-around exhausted caller from Georgia who needs to tell her story. Years later, she sets out on a cross-country journey to find the person who saved her life. Trigger warning: suicide. T for topic and language, eventual Bechloe.
1. Chapter 1

Trigger warning: suicide, self-harm, drugs

This is not meant to reflect any actual suicide or crisis hotlines in any way. The practices are only used for the story. Any incorrect actions taken are not meant to reflect actual programs or help lines.

In her cubicle, Chloe answered phones all day. She had breaks, which everyone in the office needed. Plus at least one therapist visits a week.

That's what it was like working for a growing suicide hotline.

But it worked for Chloe. She naturally brought out positivity wherever she went, and it was infectious. Countless people were given a second chance at her hand. Some needed a third or fourth, but in her five years working for Barden Suicide Hotline, only two people didn't' make it.

Aubrey was her boss and close friend. Together, they made the core of the program. Around them, about ten others were doing the same thing they were. Fat Amy helped with her off the cuff hilarity, Cynthia Rose was a pro at motivation, and Lily was a great listener. It did help that she was practically inaudible, but still, she was good at her job.

Their network of phones intertwined. Each person who called was listened to, then directed to the person who could help them the most, if time allowed. If not, they stayed with the original person who answered. For a new hotline, their success rate was high. About seventy five percent of people called back at some point to thank them. The other twenty five percent either didn't call again or was reported in the next week's obituaries.

It was Aubrey's chosen duty to search through local and online obituaries to find those that had called. She cut them out and filed them away, for no other reason than if anyone wanted to look back and remember what they were doing all this for.

The voices on the other end were people; they were real people with real lives and real problems.

Chloe was good at what she did. Maybe she did need some extra time when she did the best she could, and it just wasn't enough. Maybe she stayed up too late to work. Maybe she put off her own life to save others. Chloe did just that, and she remembered every call.

/

"Yes?"

"I'm fucking scared out of my mind right now and I'm shaking and-" Deep breathing took over the line.

"Have you done anything yet?"

More breathing.

"Should we send help?"

"No, no, I haven't- I just- I didn't take meds this morning, I was so done, and I'm home alone with too many ways to end."

Chloe put the phone between her cheek and shoulder and turned to her computer.

"Okay, take a minute to think. Did you feel like this yesterday?"

"I- I- I don't know."

"What's your name?"

"Harold."

"Harold, do you want to tell me what happened today?"

"No one cares any more. No one cares, they won't care if I'm gone."

"What did you do yesterday?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What did you do yesterday?" Chloe kept insisting until the caller responded.

"I went to school and turned in homework. I studied, I ate."

"You had to buy books and food. You contributed to a larger system that wouldn't work without you. The next step is to make your own system. Can I have your location?"

"San Diego."

"Okay, give me one second." Chloe searched for mental health centers, and came up with a few around San Diego. "What street do you live on?"

"Fifth Avenue."

"There's an office building a few streets down. I'm setting up an appointment for you for 6:30 today."

"Thanks. Um, okay. Yeah, thanks."

Chloe heard the deep breathing slow down.

"I'm glad you're still here with us."

"I think I am, too."

The call ended.

Chloe rolled her chair over to the end of her desk and the yellow legal pad she kept tucked next to her desk. She flipped through half of the pages before coming to a blank one, and wrote "Harold- appt made, San Diego, care."

On that page were three other entries from that day. So far, each had made it through the call.

/

"How many have we had today?" Aubrey cracked her knuckles before picking up her pen.

"Total of twenty, but three were pranks and one was to thank us. So sixteen," Cynthia Rose said.

"Yeah, and one was high as fuck," Fat Amy added.

"Okay," Aubrey said, turning to face Chloe, "anything else big?"

"Nope." Chloe glanced over at her desk, which was clearly visible from the meeting room. Stacie was manning her phone for the meeting, but no calls were coming in. Chloe hated not being there. As much as she trusted Stacie, she wanted to help.

"Then I'm calling it a day. See you all tomorrow, just make sure your phone's covered for the night," Aubrey reminded them as she stood up to leave.

"I'm going to take another hour tonight," Chloe said to no one in particular. Which must have been why no one responded. It was normal for her; at least that much was covered for.

Stacie took Lily's phone while Chloe stayed, taking three more calls before deciding she had had enough for the day.

When she finally got home, she collapsed onto her bed. She was exhausted, but in a good way. She did something important, and that was what kept her going. Her last thought before falling asleep was that she hoped Harold thought the same.

/

Another day passed, but with fewer calls. The din if ringing phones slowed to a halt by the end of the day, and Chloe volunteered to take on the night shift, since she didn't expect the lines to get busy again. For the most part, she was right.

/

"Yes?"

"I don't exist any more."

"What?"

"I don't exist." The voice was so blunt. It wasn't asking a question, it was making a statement as a fact.

"You do exist, you matter." Even Chloe cringed at her own clichéd response.

"Except I don't, and no one will notice when I'm gone. My name is Beca, I live in Georgia, and I don't need you to send help."

"Then why are you calling?"

"I need to tell someone my story, and since you're the only one convinced I exist, you're going to listen. Maybe if you get me to talk long enough I'll get to find out the end for myself."

"I'm not sure what to say to that."

"Take a minute. I have time."

The line was quiet. Chloe scrambled through the files in her file cabinet, trying ot find some direction. When her search yielded nothing, she returned to the phone.

"I'm ready." Chloe sat poised with her pen, ready for whatever was coming.

"Let's begin with the end, then. I have scissors, a rope, and a gun. I can use either. I decided a week ago that I was going to do this. I've been ignored, harassed, and taken advantage of too many times and for too long."


	2. Chapter 2

_I keep a book of endings under my bed. I keep a notebook of more in my pocket. _

_I have papers from countless classes deemed worthless except for the unrelated, scribbled notes in the margins. Not a single one has a beginning. A select few have a story attached somewhere in my mind. I'm waiting for the chance to have one of my endings be real. I want a story worthy of an ending._

_ They're little worlds I keep in my pocket go on as I go about my day; worlds where good is victorious and bad gets defeated in some way. Outside, sneers, smirks, and insults fly my way. But the worst is when I'm ignored. Not just by those who hate me, but by those who claim to care._

_/_

_I sat in front of the classroom crying. For no other reason than that I was anxious, I sat there hiding my face under my hands, wiping away tears with the sleeves of my jacket. Tissues were no use; they were all covered in snot and tears from earlier. It was disgusting. It really didn't help that twenty other people stood around me, completely oblivious that I was having an anxiety attack. Like usual._

_It's not like it hasn't happened before. Actually, it happens more often than most people notice. Whenever I tell people about it, they're surprised. I'm always the calm one, but that's only because I've had so much practice hiding behind a cool, collected mask._

_Days crept on like that. Hour at a time, I would hold back tears or completely throw all control out the window. I screamed at furniture because I could. I punched pillows. I blasted music. I ran in circles. Nothing did anything. The grip on my chest wouldn't loosen. My hands still shook, and I still couldn't sit still. As soon as I thought of talking, tears choked me. When I stayed silent, I was rewarded by a fake calm, control, and exhausted relief._

_/_

_ People think anxiety has roots in trust issues. I disagree. I cry in front of at least ten people each year, and after, I trust them more than anything. If they can accept me like that, then it's the least I can do to return the favor._

_ My gym teacher was one of them. I'm terrified of water, there was a swimming unit, and tears came. She was so surprised that I trusted her to teach me to swim, when I thought of no other reason than that she let me cry and didn't make me feel worse about it afterwards._

_/_

_ People ignored me. They walked straight into me as I walked down the empty hall. They waved away my comments for group projects. I was always the one who had no partner for a partner quiz. It was sad because my friends did it too._

_ No one ever asked what I thought. No one ever waited for me. It's not like they didn't care; they just didn't notice. I didn't exist._

_/_

_ I found a place in music. But I never showed it to anyone. Every time I tried, my heart beat harder and harder, radiating from my chest to my throat and stomach until I practically made myself sick._

_ I probably had more than just anxiety. I probably had depression, maybe social anxiety. I know for a fact that something else was going on._

_ But no one ever noticed._

_/_

_ Bullies. They were always the ones who noticed. I was different. I was quiet. I didn't have a ton of friends._

_ Of course they noticed. Who else?_

_ Add them to teachers who would see me cry and just watch from across the playground. Then later from across the cafeteria, and eventually from the doors as I walked out the last time after graduation._

_ I thought it would be better after that._

_/_

_ I didn't leave the house. The streets were just like the hallways. Jobs were like classes. Break rooms were just playgrounds without hiding places._

_ So I stayed home and tried my best to exist. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't even convince myself that I was real. I was just an idea doomed to float around until the last person thought me._

_ I waited for that day to come._

_ I realized that I kept thinking me. I was the only one keeping me around._

_ As long as I existed, I couldn't not exist._

_/_

_ The future came fast. I found myself in a steady job with a group of friends who actually saw me. I stopped trying to not exist._

_ But then I tried to talk, and I couldn't say anything. I was empty._

_ I wasn't living, I was just existing. There's a fine line between the two. I learned it the hard way._

_ Nothing was inside me trying to get out. I listened, and realized that was all I had ever done. That was how people didn't notice me, and once I entered the adult world, that was what I was supposed to do: just listen. I lost my sense of nonexistence. It was the only thing I ever really had._

_ I had to get it back. But the only way to do that was to not exist anymore, because I learned how to exist._

_/_

_Sometimes the world ends. It might start back up again, but it ends more than you would think. When people break down, when society betrays loyal participants, and when stories have nowhere else to go._

_I had nowhere else to go, so I picked up the phone with the emergency numbers taped to the back of the receiver from when my mom was worried I was going insane._

_The person who picked up didn't know what to say, so I talked. I said my story._

_Then she spoke the words I had never heard before._

"_I'm glad you exist."_

_I didn't know how to respond._

_Then I realized I was the one talking. I was telling her that, because no one ever listened before._

/

Chloe had no words to provide. Her only tools had been revoked, and by herself, of course.

She heard Beca narrate on the other end, her story now at the present.


	3. Chapter 3

"Is- is that it?"

"I don't know," Beca muttered, "I'm not sure if I want it to be."

"Is this an ending?"

"It might be."

Chloe looked around, keeping the phone to her ear. No one was paying attention to her, and considering only a few others were still there, the chance of them hearing were next to none.

"I'm glad you exist, too. The world needs to hear stories like this," Chloe finally said. "If it's not for yourself, at least do it for the people thinking the same things as you."

"One of my endings is after this conversation. It ends with the knife and someone laughing. I think I'm the one who's laughing." Beca's voice did not waver.

"No-"

"It's funny how far I've made it. It's funny how much time I've wasted trying to get by. I don't exist. It's hilarious because I don't even exist any more."

The line crackled. Chloe gripped the receiver tighter and grabbed a handful of the coiled chord connecting the receiver to the phone.

"As much as you want to think that, you do exist. There's someone who wants to see you alive. I don't care if I-"

The line went dead.

"-if I'm that person."


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm out for the rest of the week."

Chloe's blatantly disturbed voice shook everyone out of their work.

"Did someone-?"

"I don't know."

That was the worst part for Chloe. Working at a crisis hotline had so many "if" moments. If Beca made a choice. If she made the choice to stop choosing anymore. If she chose to make that last choice.

It's not like it hadn't happened before. There was that one guy from Connecticut, and the girl from Oregon, but Beca was different. She knew exactly what was going on. She saw the world around her, and it sucked.

Most people weren't thinking right when they called. They were in hysterics. But Beca was calm. But then again, that's exactly what she said.

It made sense. Beca was going out how she came in: hidden.

Someone needed to find her.

Or she needed to find someone.

But Chloe was exhausted. She remembered her own years running to the place under the slide where no one could see her. She remembered looking at the train tracks and counting the trains, thinking, debating.

/

_I can't always be the happy one. I have problems, too. I found solace in helping. It put my own thoughts in order when I heard them from someone else._

/

"Are you-"

"Don't know. See you later." Chloe tried to make herself walk out right then, but she couldn't.

She grabbed her notebook, now full of notes from her last call, and tried not to run out the door.

/

Chloe lay face down on the bed for hours. If she knew what Beca was doing, or had done, she would have been less depressed.

Her open laptop sat next to her on the queen-sized bed. A few pages of a document were filled with text, elaborated form the notes she had taken during the call.

That's how she referred to Beca's call for a long time. The call. She knew exactly what it meant when she heard that phrase.

She couldn't stop thinking about Beca, a girl she had never seen, laying on her own bed with no color in her face, or with a question still lingering in the air, or just waiting.

Chloe had made sure to write down, almost word for word, some of Beca's most poignant lines. She didn't know why. She just felt like they wouldn't do anything if they didn't get off of the phone.

Her eyelids lowered. It was so hard to keep them open.

_This is what it's like to give in,_ Chloe thought, letting sleep envelop her.

She fell asleep disgusted with herself.

/

Chloe spent the rest of the week in her room, refusing to leave her bed except to eat or go to the bathroom. It was Thursday when the call came.

It wasn't until Sunday that she returned to the living world.

She checked her e-mail. Just some worries and concerns from Aubrey, as usual. But one of them was different.

_You got a call. When you come back, I'll give you the number._

Within ten minutes she was showered, dressed, and on her way back to work.

/

'Some guy named Harold?"

"Oh."

Chloe dropped her head. She could only see Aubrey's shoes in front of her.

"Yeah, I'll talk with him."

/

"Thank you so much." Harold said through the phone. "I don't know how you did it, really. I just- I needed someone to be there, and there you were. Thank you. Thank you."

"Any time, Harold. I'm glad you're still here." Chloe's comforting nature was half-assed, and she knew it. But that wasn't going to stop her from finishing the call.

"What can I do? Really, I need to do something for you guys. Even if you are all the way in Illinois, I have to do something."

"We're always in need of donations to keep running, really," Chloe said, not even paying attention to what she was saying any more.

"You can bet you'll have that by next week. Thank you so much."

"Have a great day, Harold."

/

"Beca? You okay up there?"

"Hello? Beca?"

Her parents slowly opened the door.

Beca was laying face down on her bed, with her laptop open next to her. She wrote her story.

"B-Beca?" Her mom approached the bed. She saw the laptop. Beca's hand was resting on the keyboard. The last line of text was unfinished.

_I'm glad I decided to ; khj.m_

Her mom reached out a hand and laid it on Beca's shoulder.

"Mhm- five more minutes," Beca mumbled.

"You okay? We called and you didn't pick up."

"Yeah. Five more minutes." Beca edged closer to the wall, signaling her parents to leave.

/

_People were always kind of worried about me, I guess. But they got used to it, just like me._

/

Chloe waited by the phone all day. Not a single call from Georgia or from Beca. No obituaries yet, either.

Every ringing phone brought a frazzled lurch and empty disappointment. Eventually she expected nothing. It just drilled the simple phrase into her head.

_I don't exist any more._

"Yes?"

_I don't exist any more._

"Try not to cut today. You need some time to relax and to not think about problems."

_I don't exist any more._

"Drugs make medications worse. You should know this."

_I don't exist any more._

"You have an appointment in twenty minutes."

_I don't exist any more._

"Hello? Are you still there?"

"Hello?"

/

Chloe filled out the caller report for the one that didn't make it. Gun shot. Part of her felt dead, as if she were inside of the caller when it happened. The thin line that wavered between each day swayed the wrong way, and snapped.

She knew all too well how easily the line broke, letting everything from one side flood into the other until there wasn't room for the present, only the past.

"Take another day off, Chloe. You've done a lot this past week," Stacie suggested, already reaching for Chloe's file of reports. "Take some time for yourself for once."

Chloe tried to form an argument, but she was tired.

/

"Beca! Breakfast!"

'One sec,"

Beca searched through her bedroom, trying to find her phone.

"Where's my phone?"

"Charging down here, don't worry. No calls."

_Like usual_, Beca thought.


	5. Chapter 5

___Thanks for the reviews so far! You guys keep me motivated!_

_I'm just going to say this now. First chapter three, now this. I'm a terrible person for doing this to poor Beca._

* * *

_Three Years Later_

Beca hummed to herself as she scrambled eggs on the stove. Her new New York apartment was typically suburban. A few miles out from the city, she lived a fairly quiet life with two friends that she met while taking music classes at the local community college.

She kept a book of endings under her bed, and her past stayed hidden in a twenty-page document buried deep in her hard drive.

Old endings were dark. New endings managed to be darker while still being light. Beca didn't understand it, but that's how she worked. Half of what she wrote about her past was garbled and unreadable. In some sense, it was better that way. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be able to rehash that part of her.

Her roommates, Jessica and Denise, didn't press her for too much information. They pretended not to listen to the crying coming from behind the thin walls. They didn't question the medications that kept getting delivered. They didn't flinch when Beca taped emergency numbers to the phone receiver.

Beca knew they listened and watched and wondered.

It was fantastic.

They invited her out to their parties on the weekends. They listened dutifully to Beca's music. Jessica helped her compile playlists, and Denise stacked the medication bottles according to when to take them in the cabinet above the counter and next to the fridge.

Beca kept a book of endings always within reach. It reminded her that she didn't end. Chloe cropped up every few pages, and then became a steadily recurring component as Beca settled her anxiety. She didn't want to call, but she wanted to hear that voice.

She wasn't ready to go back to that piece of her. As much as she was grateful for everything Chloe did, she hesitated to even think of talking with her again, or pulling up he roots that had coiled around her past.

Roots.

Feeding off of the soil like she fed off of Chloe's voice over the phone, a distant memory that still throbbed with life like a fresh wound.

/

The phone sat on her bed, ready to call. Beca saved the number after three years. Her finger hovered over the call button.

"You want pizza?"

"You already know the answer," Beca replied. "Plain cheese, medium."

"Will do. You okay?" Denise was always a worrier.

"Yeah, I think."

"What's going on?"

"I don't know. I'm thinking of going on a trip."

To be honest, she had all of her clothes, her laptop, and a backpack of spare cash and pretzels set and ready to go, set aside under her bed.

"Sounds fun."

"I'm gonna head out in the morning."

"So soon?" Now Denise joined in.

"Yeah."

Beca was glad the walls were so thin. She didn't want them to see her on the verge of tears.

It was something she knew she had to do. She couldn't' let something as big as that call just sit in the past.

/

Chloe kept the folded up piece of paper under her bed. She never did see an obituary, but she was still scared.

/

Beca piled everything into the back seat of her car. Her list of Barden locations grew over three years, with the original closing just a year ago. Chloe could be anywhere.

/

Chloe checked her e-mail.

_Someone called and asked for you. Told them you weren't at the same place. Gave them your number, hope that's okay. Hope all's well on your end! –aubrey_

As if on cue, her phone lit up.

_Hey, just wanted to thank you._

Chloe grinned.

_Glad to hear it! Have a fantastic day!_

/

Beca tried to hear Chloe through the text, she really did. She couldn't, and it nearly killed her.

The parking lot outside of the old diner was nearly empty.

She checked the seat next to her. She wanted to let go of the wheel and ride into the busy intersection. But Chloe was getting closer, she could feel it.

Beca felt the car fold in next to her. Her leg cracked. A rib snapped. Sirens. A face loomed over her in bright daylight. She didn't remember leaving the car, but somehow she was on the ground. She tried to think that it was Chloe who stood over her, but she had no image to reference. The voice was warped. The rasping of scraping metal came back to her.

The blue van coming forward. Legs that wouldn't work.

"HOW THE FUCK DID YOU NOT SEE ME?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry for having a car crash. Just needed it to move Beca's internal conflict along a bit (and to make it that much harder for her. I know, I'm mean)._

_Three Days Later_

Beca's car was totaled. It was a choice between public transportation and renting, and Beca only had so much cash to spare.

/

_The one time Beca wasn't ignored was at camp. But it sucked._

_ "The vampire's back!" The first sound she heard getting onto the camp bus her second year of being a counselor._

_ She almost turned around right then. She didn't even like camp. At all. But she needed money, and the camp needed someone who could play the guitar._

_ The world ended that year._

_ Beca had a summer birthday. She was dealing with a group of particularly rowdy six year olds who were eating "her" cake._

_ The camp director approached the tent where they were all going insane._

_ "Beca, you're not doing your job well at all. You need to step up your performance."_

_ The entire tent went silent. Fifteen campers and their counselor stared at Beca, who was frozen mid-strum on D minor. Her pick fell to the ground._

_ "You're not counselor material. I don't know why you're here."_

_ The director, Janet, was round. She looked like a sphere with limbs and a polo shirt and a visor. Beca had a theory that Janet was so angry because she was so spherical._

_ "I've done more than anyone at this camp. I went on three field trips and swim twice a day with campers." Beca's defense was useless._

_ "You aren't an active participant at counselor meetings."_

_ "Because I have nothing to say."_

_ "You complain too much."_

_ "To other counselors on my time, how do you know?"_

_ Beca wished she could disappear. She existed too much. People saw her and were hurting her. Time to not exist._

_ "Okay, Janet. Can I get back to work?" Beca reached for her pick, but Janet stepped closer._

_ "You need to swim with more campers. The deep end doesn't have enough people. When it's your time to swim, you better be in at least five feet of water."_

_ It happened like any other try._

_ Beca stayed close to the wall. She clung to it like her life depended on it. Four year olds swam around her, asking for her to come to the twelve-foot end. She could only shake her head in response._

_ Each slow step pushed her deeper in. The water was up to her chin. Mouth. Nose._

_ Beca stood on her toes. Her goggles held her tears, although no one would have noticed if she was crying._

_ That same heartbeat came back, pounding and making it nearly impossible to get a full breath._

_ A small figure brushed against her hand under the water._

_ Beca jumped against the wall and started to climb out. A camper popped out of the water and grinned before swimming away,_

_ Of course Janet was on deck that day._

_ "Get back in the water."_

_ "Janet, I have to-"_

_ "Do it."_

_ Beca bit her bottom lip and glanced at the door to the locker rooms. So close. The fence surrounding the pool deck was begging to be climbed. So many ways out, but no escape._

_ Her vision narrowed. She could only see the deep end, filled with impending doom._

_ The next time she was singled out was on the bus ride home._

_ Beca hated busses with a passion. She was made fun of in one and screamed at in the other. Two of the few times she was noticed. This third time was no different._

_ "What's your deal?" The other counselor on her bus was a typical ditz. "You need to listen to her, you know. Suck it up. You're not even close to being a good counselor, so at least try to not be a horrible one."_

_ There were probably pauses in that, but Beca couldn't remember it happening that way. She probably had pathetic retorts and yelled a bit, but she didn't want to remember that._

_ "I'm not giving up on this."_

/

"Time to give up," Chloe whispered to herself as she tossed her phone aside. "They obviously don't want to talk."

/

Beca decided on renting a car. Small, almost ten years old, but functioning enough to get her to Illinois at least.

While she waited, she texted Chloe.

_Almost gave up today. But that's not what I do. That's what you reminded me. You still at the Illinois location?_

She didn't expect a response so soon.

_Yeah, but we moved to another building a few miles north. Not the same, but we've expanded :) I'm glad you didn't give up._

/

_It was when people ignored her when she was at her worst. Beca admitted it. But it was also when people saw her, interacted with her. She was torn between wanting to not and struggling to exist. As time wore on, people ignored her more. Teachers looked over her head. Friends forgot to call her._

_ It seemed like the only solution was to have it one way or the other, with no going back._

_ Since she was having trouble with one, she figured she should do the other._

_ But then it was made so easy one night just to sit and exist._

/

Beca pulled out a map of Illinois. The original place was circled in blue pen, with a larger red circle with a radius three times bigger drawn around it.

Then it occurred to her that she could just look it up.

No. She didn't want to go there. She wanted to go to a different place. It was settled.

She checked the e-mail from Aubrey one last time.

_We cannot give out further personal information about our phone managers. I hope you reach Chloe without trouble. Please be responsible with this number._

Well, she kind of already failed that last part. No regret left, then. No use holding up a broken pillar if the rest were standing.


	7. Chapter 7

_Some more Chloe, some more Beca. Guaranteed Bechloe moments next chapter._

* * *

"Yes?"

"I'm so high right now."

"Okay…"

"I see light. It's- it's so close."

Chloe heard a click.

"Sir, are you okay?" She started to call the police, but she didn't know where he was. "Where are you?"

"I'm not at all okay, and I'm okay with that. I'm about to go."

"You don't need to do this, really. There's so much ahead. You can be okay. Please."

A bang echoed through the phone. The line was still on, but the man was dead.

/

"Yes?"

"Hi, um, I'm calling for a- a friend. She cut and she's bleeding really badly and she needs to talk to someone before the ambulance comes. She's-"

"Put her on the phone. Thank you for being there for her." Chloe was no stranger to these types of calls. Friends like that were rare, but they turned up when they were needed most.

"I don't know what I did." The girl was hyperventilating. "What did I do?"

"Don't worry, honey. People are coming to help. Stay with us, okay? Tell your friend to get some towels and try to stop the bleeding. You're doing great. Talk."

"Um, I'm twenty, and I- and I-" The girl coughed and quieted her voice.

"Keep going. I'm listening."

"I thought there was nothing. They all hated me. I was alone."

_I don't exist any more._

"You have a friend with you right now."

"I know, I wish I knew, I-"

Sirens blared. Chloe was in the zone.

"Tell the doctors everything they want to know. This is not the time to be silent. Good luck."

Chloe heard the call end in its customary click.

/

Her phone lit up again. By now she had the number in her contacts, under AAA.

_I'm getting better. I'm moving forward._

Chloe wasn't sure how to take that text, but it looked to be okay.

_So who is this?_

She couldn't help asking again. She wanted to know. Her house was quiet except for the buzz of her phone when she got a text.

_You helped me live three years ago. I just wanted to thank you for that. Anyways, I have to go. I'm meeting someone._

"You've done good, Chloe," she said to herself. If anything, that was why she loved her job.

She wondered about the person who could be on the other end of the world. It wasn't often people got second chances.

So many calls came over the past three years, though. Sure, there was that guy from Rhode Island, and the girl in high school, but-

There was a knock at the door.

_Curious_, Chloe thought.

"Hi, um, yeah, hi." The girl in the doorway was short. She fingered the edge of her flannel shirt nervously and stared at Chloe.

"Hi, can I help you?"

/

Beca's breath caught in her throat.

"I found you, I found you, you're voice, it's even better…"

She fell to her knees on the concrete porch. Beca stared at the shoes in front of her. Chloe was standing in front of her.

"I'm sorry, I'm really confused right now," Chloe said. It was the most beautiful thing Beca ever heard.

Beca pulled out her phone and typed. Seconds later, Chloe's phone received a text.

_I'm Beca. I didn't exist, but now I do._

Chloe read it over a few times before shoving her phone into her pocket. She held out a hand.

"Hi, I'm Chloe. I'm glad you exist."

Beca grasped Chloe's hand and pulled herself up, but then went in farther and pulled Chloe into an embrace once she was standing.

"I came from the other end. I made it. You did so much more than you could ever imagine, let me do something for you."

"How about we grab dinner?"

"Okay."


	8. Chapter 8

The restaurant was crowded enough that no one noticed Beca quietly crying, or Chloe eating without saying a word. No one noticed the worried glances Beca made, expecting Chloe to disappear forever. No one noticed Chloe's deep breaths that kept her from running out the door.

Beca's feet dangled just above the floor, swinging back and forth. She tapped the ground each time her feet went under the chair. Chloe listened to the steady beat, almost like a heartbeat, but right in front of her.

Chloe wanted to say something, at least, but she felt like it was Beca's time to talk.

But not a sound came from her. Only the nervous scraping of her fork on the plate and the crunching of ice every time she drank her soda.

"Beca?"

Silence.

"Beca."

Deafening silence.

"Beca!"

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know. Bringing you here and not talking."

/

_I was silent for a long time. At least everybody thought I was._

_ Group projects sucked. I tried to add to the project, but it was like-_

_ It was like I didn't exist._

_ They would ask why I was so quiet. They never listened long enough to hear my answer. So I stopped trying to answer._

/

"Don't be. I get it." Chloe looked down at her food, but saw Beca bring her napkin to her face. Chloe felt a pull at the pit of her stomach.

/

_ "Wha-?"_

_ "I'm trying to help you," Chloe explained, reaching out a hand._

_ "Do I look like I need help?"_

_ He did. His clothes were almost nonexistent except for the bits of thread that formed holes, which took up most of the space. Snow littered the ground, no doubt the reason for the man's bluish skin._

_ "Come on, I know a place-"_

_ "Fuck off."_

/

"Really?"

"Yeah. I spend all day with people who want to talk." Chloe knew that what she said was true, but she didn't want to sit in silence. She wasn't one to enforce quiet.

Beca slid to the edge of the chair and shifted the chair next to her- closer to Chloe.

Chloe didn't comment on it. Beca brought her plate to her new place and continued eating. Now her swinging feet brought air drifting around Chloe's sandaled feet. Chloe wasn't sure whether her goosebumps were from that or Beca's proximity. She smelled like grass.

Every time either of them leaned on the table, the glass candleholder shook. The flame wavered, but never went out.

Beca found herself at the corner of her seat, as close to Chloe as she could be without leaving the chair. It felt invasive and welcome, cautious and confident. Chloe still didn't say anything.

She had gotten over the scared voice on the other end years ago. Beca had never heard Chloe's last words on the phone, and Chloe accepted it. But Beca being so close drove Chloe into a fit of nerves. The restaurant was hot. No, the food. No, just her. Or was it the radiating warmth from Beca? No, no. Every breath Chloe heard was a reminder of what she did. The small woman at her side was seconds away from not taking another breath, and yet there she was, more alive than ever.

"Thank you, again. I don't even know how to tell you how much that call meant. You realize you listened for two hours, right?"

"Yes." Chloe didn't want to say it was her job, even though they both knew it was. "I guess it was lucky that you got my line."

'Not luck."

"Chance?"

"No." Beca felt her breaths get lighter. Something was happening. Something bigger than she could wrap her mind around.

"Then what?"

Beca gulped. She could still taste her soda at the back of her throat.

"Um,"

"What?"

"I think-"

"Just say it." Chloe hated being held in suspense.

"No, I-"

"Beca."

"Please just let me not." The high-pitched whine that came from Beca was just short of a wail of fear, or sadness, or both.

"Beca."

"No."

"I will leave."

"Fine."

"Well then?" Chloe was at the end of her rope. As much as she saw Beca on the edge of breaking down, she felt like she was already past that point. She never had to see people before. It was a phone. She was helping, but it was distant. She thought it wasn't distant, but seeing Beca hit something in her.

Beca was searching for the word. None of them seemed right.

"It was, it was," she contemplated, "it was… I hate this word so much."


	9. Chapter 9

"Fate."

It meant existence and reason. It meant being important. It meant no choice.

On impulse, Beca grabbed Chloe's hand and pulled it to her, placing it on her back. Their faces were close. The air was filled with their heavy breathing. Beca took the moment.

She slowly closed the gap between them and felt Chloe fall into the kiss.

"I love you."

Chloe pulled away abruptly.

"You're in love with what I did for you."

"This doesn't happen without some kind of reason. That night, I hung up on you mid-sentence. You said something else, something that made you remember me. I know it, you know it, and that's why we're here right now. There's something here. Please, admit it."

Before Chloe could respond, Beca stood up. She took Chloe's hands and pulled her up.

"I can't do this right now, Beca. This is a lot to take in."

"Then don't. Let it happen." She was begging. But even beggars were subjects at the feet of fate. "Tell me what you said. You said that there's someone who wants to see me alive. Who?"

Chloe was cornered. The voice on the phone was so far away, and yet it felt so close. Beca understood being turned away just for existing.

That meant something, right?

"The exact words, if you must know, were 'I don't care if I'm that person.'"

"So I was right."

"Yep. I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

/

They sat back down. Beca, in her spot next to Chloe, kept a hand on Chloe's knee.

"It's okay. Even if you're not sure right now, I'm glad you exist."

"Thanks," Chloe muttered. "I'm just not sure how to handle this."

"We can test it out?"

"Okay."

Beca brought her hand to Chloe's shoulder and pulled her into a hug. Although the corner of the table got in the way, Chloe was happy having someone there to help her for once.

This time it was Chloe who told her story. Beca had spent enough time in therapy to know how to respond. In a twisted way, it all made sense. There were a lot of hugs and some unintentionally awkward touching, but both Beca and Chloe reveled in each other's existence.

/

Still no one noticed the two women standing next to a table. No one noticed them pay and walk out.

/

They made their way back to Chloe's house, but Chloe had Beca pushed up against the door before either could take their shoes off.

Something in her snapped. Something rushed in her.

"Beca…"

"Mhm?"

"Would you be okay if we, uh, moved this…"

"Yeah."

Chloe's bedroom was filled with spare notebooks, all filled with stories from the other end.

/

_I keep a book of endings under my bed. They belong to people. They're real._

/

Sticking out from under the bed was the old notebook with Beca's unfinished story. Beca saw it as she and Chloe tangled themselves together. She was overcome with an odd pride as her past was crushed by her present.

"We're fucking the beginning, we're rocking through the middle," Beca said, holding the notebook up triumphantly.

"And we're still not even close to the end," Chloe added, knocking the notebook from Beca's hand and letting the open pages fly out. So many endings, but the only thing that mattered then was the beginning they created.

To the world, two people might not exist. But they might mean the world to each other.

* * *

_I'm going to let you guys decide something for me. I'm not sure if this should keep going or not. If you think it should, let me know. Feel free to tell me what you think should happen. If you think there's nowhere left to go with this story, tell me. (Or, if you think this chapter should have been different. Still not sure if I like how it turned out...) Either way, tell me what you think, either in a __review or message. Thanks for reading!_


	10. Chapter 10

"Lily, order more paper. Stacie, please, do not sit on the break room table, people eat there. Fat Amy, stop leaving pizza in the fridge over the weekend, it reeks. And please, pull it together for when Chloe visits, we don't want it to look like this place is falling apart!"

While Chloe stayed behind in northern Illinois, Aubrey and the rest moved headquarters down closer to Springfield. To be quite honest, it wasn't the same without her. There was a little less noise, a little less happiness, and a lot more night hours. They were tired. Chloe usually took night hours so they didn't have to, but that wasn't the case any more.

"Aubrey, lay off," Fat Amy said, shoving another half-eaten pizza into the fridge. "Relax, just don't show Chloe the break room, and we can drink some coffee."

"Yeah," Stacie added, "but coffee makes him wild." She motioned downwards. Fat Amy, for once, didn't have a response.

"ithinwerfinfotomorrow."

"What?"

Lily rolled her eyes and took in a deep breath.

"I think we're fine for tomorrow."

"At least she tries," Aubrey said to herself, running a hand through her hair.

/

"Should I tell Aubrey when I visit?"

"I don't know," Beca mumbled. She heard abut Aubrey through Chloe, and she sounded, in an odd way, volatile. "What do you think would be best?"

"I think she should know, at least. I'll tell her." Chloe rolled off the bed and looked at Beca lying on top of the blankets. She would have said it was a twist of fate, but Beca already did that.

/

"Guys, come on, Chloe's coming _tomorrow_! We're a functioning facility that can handle an old friend visiting." Aubrey was at the end of her rope. Fat Amy was, as usual, putting off her job of taking out the break room trash. They had to bring in a therapist twice in the past week because of a jump in calls. Jumps in calls meant more losses. Morale was low, and the general had few options.

/

"I though maybe I could come with, too," Beca added.

"I don't know if-"

"I just want to try. If they're anything like you, I'll have no problem, right?"

Chloe tried to remember if anyone like Beca had ever come close to the office. Her memory drew nothing, leaving Chloe with no tools. Again, Beca had voided her experience.

"Right."

/

The glass door swung open. A short girl with ear spikes seemed to be shaking in the warm summer air. Aubrey approached her.

"Can I help you?"

Beca held out a hand.

"I'm Beca. I found Chloe."

"You did what?"

"Well, with her number, I found her general location," Beca said, taking a few steps back.

"And what did Chloe do? Shit, I hope she's late. I can't deal with this right now."

Chloe walked through the doors after listening in.

"Aubrey, you've always told me that being late is worse than not showing up. Being late can be the difference between life and death, and you know it. You know it better than anyone else."

"Don't you dare, Chloe." Aubrey's face turned red, almost the same shade as Chloe's hair.

"I will. I'm going to. Beca, I pulled Aubrey out of her office when she was over-dosed on anti-depressants. At work. Funny how things happen that way. If I had waited another minute, we wouldn't be talking with her right now."


End file.
